


The Heart Pumps

by Elijah_Dentwood



Category: My Bloody Valentine (2009), Supernatural
Genre: Forced Orgasm, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elijah_Dentwood/pseuds/Elijah_Dentwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is hunting down Heaven's weapons and he's sure he's found one. When he gets into the mine he finds an injured, but very much capable Tom Hanniger who feels like what he's looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart Pumps

The pain in Tom's side throbs with his pulse. Maybe his heart pumps the blood right out of his body and onto mine floor. Perhaps dirt and filth from the mine floor stick in his wound, coat his torn flesh. It could even be infection creeping through his veins, poisoning the path of the bullet. He doesn't know how long he's been unconscious for, he just knows he's alive. 

Tom lays mostly still but checks himself over best he can through the rubble. He wiggled his toes, twists his ankles. He needs to feel whole. 

~ 

Castiel needs this weapon. Much of Heaven's arsenal has been hidden by the Archangels over the centuries, buried deep in the earth beyond the reach of humans and demons. As though they knew, the humans are digging over the site. 

The weapon calls to him, a demanding need in some small part of his mind. It is war time, and Castiel is a solider. 

In the nearest town something bad is happening, the sort of something that Sam and Dean usually deal with. He can't stop to help; he can't allow himself to be distracted from the weapon. Whatever is happening draws the humans away from the site of their digging, and at night it is quiet and will allow him the movement he needs. 

He moves closer to the mine, stood beneath the sign that names it HANNIGER MINING CO. The need of the weapon is clawing inside him as draws nearer to it. It quickens the pulse, ruins the breathing pattern of his host. 

A plastic ribbon flutters in the wind, taped across the entrance: POLICE, DO NOT ENTER. Castiel can't hear or see anyone now – he guesses this will help keep humans away.  
~ 

It's slow, painful work getting out from underneath the rubble. Once he's out Tom just lays there, gasping and feeling his lungs drag in what counts as clean air down here. 

A cough sends brutal pain into his right side, tormenting the muscles that have been opened by the bullet wound. His eyes open wide and Tom stares at the ceiling of the mine; he doesn't blame Sarah. He blames the drugs for not working. He blames the shrinks for not seeing. He swallows hard and does anything but blame himself. 

No one comes after he's been laying there a while, and it seems he should be locked up already. Tom sits up. His clothes are torn, dirty, bloody. So is his skin. So is everything. He tries to breath but it's rough and ragged, it catches on his lungs and shudders his chest. Everything is wrong. 

He hears the cluck of a tongue close by, and then soothing noises. Harry is shifting. Harry wants it to all be okay. He's always been the strong one. 

'It hurts,' Tom whispers into the dark, alone and desperate enough to try. No one answers him back, not even Harry. 

Once he's managed it he finds that standing isn't so bad. He pulls off his upper layers, tearing at his t-shirt to make a bandage. It holds the wound and keeps the muscles still. He didn't cause this, and yet he's the one that hurts. Anger at Harry swells and fades as Tom realizes it's futile – Harry is inside, Harry has been consumed. He closes his eyes tightly, fighting off acknowledgement of the facts, but blood and the flash of a blade sit behind his eyelids, tempting him into darkness. 

He needs to get out of here, if he ever wants Harry gone. IF. 

~

The tunnels are simple compared to the dug-out earth of many creatures, Castiel considers. Ants for example. The lights are bright in the entrance, fading out as he moves further down. His eyes adjust fast, pupils expanding to leave the thinnest ring of bright blue. 

His host continues to react to the presence of the weapon. He grinds his teeth against the throb in his muscles. It's nothing he's ever felt in the host before. The raw need of it makes him think of the way humans describe hunger and addiction. 

Castiel's hearing is good. He hears rats scuttling, the shifting of rocks. He knows precisely when he moves into the next chamber of the mine that it's boots he hears against gravel, he hears the scrape of metal against the mine floor. He needs to carry on, and he can send the human back up to the surface easily. 

~ 

_Someone is coming._

Tom finds the small office. The walls are plastered with torn out pages of porn mags and newspaper clippings that someone found funny. There's a plastic chair pushed under a desk covered with paperwork. Rotas, safety procedures and rather surprisingly sheet music for piano. Whoever left this surely also owned the one interesting piece of the office; a gramophone. Underneath the desk, Harry stored his mask and suit, and of course the pick ax. 

He piles the clothes, mask and gramophone on the chair and carries it back through to the next section of the mine, tucking the pick ax under his arm. 

Once he's put them all down he tugs off his pants; they're torn and bloody anyway. He steps into the mining suit, leaving the top half hanging down. The strip of his t-shirt is still wrapped around his wound, a shade darker than when he first applied it. 

There's a convenient spot for the gramophone; a little ledge on one side of the mine wall. Tom plays with the buttons and twistable parts until music kicks in. He finds the mask and pulls it over his face, securing the back. 

He breathes deep and welcomes Harry. 

~ 

Castiel's footsteps don't falter when the music starts, muffled through the walls of the mine. Humans are on the whole incapable of silence, the angel has found. They must always be humming, singing, talking or shifting about. 

He's barely stepped foot into the next chamber when something begins pounding at his temple. A hand twists at his wrist and a foot hooks around his ankle. Castiel doesn't give, he remains upright and tries to swing towards the source of the violence. Another blow darkens his vision and he passes out. 

When he wakes he's tied to a chair. He forces his wrists against the binds, sure of his celestial power. Nothing happens except pain from his skin twisting against the steel chains at his wrists. 

_I fell into a ring of fire_

Castiel realizes the music is in this room, and so is the human. He's stood to his left, shirtless and wearing a mask of some kind. The masked man was clearly responsible for his current situation. Castiel tilted his head and stared at him. The call of the weapon was still bubbling inside him, stronger now. He pushed his feet against the ground – perhaps it was buried nearby. 

_I fell into a burning ring of fire. I went down, down, down, down, down, down, down, down, down_

Tom smacked his fist beside the gramophone. It went quiet for a moment then shifted onto a new song; something heavy on violins, something more classic. 

'I'm not here to harm you,' Castiel says, 'I'm looking for something.' Tom finds that unlikely. There is only one reason anyone would come to the mine tonight. He's already feeling anxious; Harry didn't come, and he's alone inside the suit. He's has Harry's power, Harry's disguise, but he's just himself. 

Tom says nothing to the dark haired man. He takes in the beige trenchcoat and the suit. What is this guy, a salesman? Something to do with insurance? He's good looking though. Tom has always liked dark haired guys. He moves closer and sees not just dark hair but blue eyes and soft lips that make his own eyes widen a little behind the mask. 

He has Harry's power....Harry's disguise...

Cas has been working to improve his understanding of human body gestures and subtlety of language, but this man is masked and silent. All he can see is the man's naked chest, and that's giving nothing away except that the man has at some point been injured.

He watches the masked man draw closer to him and shifts against the chains. He's an Angel of Lord, one of the most powerful creatures to walk the Earth, and yet a slither of fear shoots through his chest as this human walks towards him. The deep rooted sense that was driving him towards the hidden celestial weapon rises until it's almost painful in it's urgency. Does this human somehow have the weapon? Has he touched it? 

Tom wonders when he'll stop, and seems like the answer is that he won't. Why would he, now that he can take what he wants without fear? Harry has given him this freedom. Tom has hated Harry for so long – he's spent years trying to drive him out with drugs and talking, letting doctors ease his pain and take away his fear, but none of them never came close to destroying the rot that worked at his brain. 

'What's your name?' he asks the man seated in front of him gruffly, because names are important and Tom needs to be clear. 

'Castiel,' the dark haired man answers immediately, almost too quickly. Tom realizes that the guy hasn't panicked once; most people would scream and beg for their freedom in this situation. All he does is move against the chains Tom used, as though next time they'll just fall off. 

'Castiel,' Tom repeats, savoring the name. It's different and fitting. He wants to write it down, and maybe later he can. It's a name he'll always remember. He kneels down in front of Castiel and presses his face close, breathing hard through the mask. The man has this air about him; naïve but sure of himself. His chin is tilted up, and he just looks back at Tom. 

'Where's the weapon?' Cas asks, because now he feels like he could reach out and touch it. 

Tom tilts his head and wonders if Castiel means the ax. Plenty of people know about Harry, but anyone who knew surely wouldn't want to meet the implement that meant their certain death. Tom doesn't want to kill Castiel, not yet. For now he just wants to touch and enjoy the gift that Harry has given him. 

Tom decides that he will take off his mask, because Castiel will die eventually and he wants to feel everything. 

When Tom pulls off the mask his eyes are shut. Cas' mouth slackens and his eyes move over the newly exposed face. He wishes he could move his hands. He waits what feels like an age for those eyes to open and when they do he doesn't know whether to be relived for more afraid. 

'Dean,' he breathes, but he knows this isn't him. He put Dean together himself piece by piece after he pulled his soul from hell. He knows every slope of his body, every freckle, the exact color composition of his eyes. This isn't the Dean he raised, but he's painfully close. Cas doesn't understand – perhaps this is something Heaven has created, a weapon deliberately made to reflect Michael's chosen vessel. 

Tom narrows his eyes because Castiel is calling him another names, and names are important. 'Tom,' he says pointedly, 'my name Tom.' 

'Why have you tied me up? I must return you to Heaven,' Castiel says gently, leaving Tom wondering if he banged his head harder than he'd thought earlier in the explosion. 

_Heaven?_ Tom wonders if this is a ploy to distract him or maybe – a thought rises – maybe this isn't happening at all. His hands are shaking and the world begins to tremble at the edges, blurring into a mess. He stares with tunnel vision at Castiel, the only thing that's staying still in all of this is him. Tom puts his hands on Castiel's knees and steadies himself. 

'Tom?' 

He's blacked out everything but now it all comes rushing in towards him; the smell of the mine, the pain in his side, the warmth of Castiel's legs beneath his hands. He should never have doubted that what he had was real. He should grasp onto this, accept it for what it was. Tom reaches into the deep pocket that runs the length of his thigh in his mining suit. He pulls out a small, sharp knife and sets to work. 

*

He can't be bothered to undo the tie, so he cuts it away from Castiel's throat, but it's the shirt and coat that really need the work. Tom doesn't need the knife to slide off Castiel's black shoes and pants. 

HERE 

Cas can't understand what's happening. Tom's fingers brush against his skin when he uses the knife to cut at his clothes, and he's sure now that Tom contains the weapon. He stares into the face that is so much like Dean's and wonders; there's no true face beneath those features, he's human. 

Tom makes short work of his clothes and Cas is naked. He has always understood that he must clothe himself to pass amongst humans, but he doesn't feel the shame of his clothing stripped away. 

And by now this man should be definitely be panicking, he should definitely not be okay. It's just hours since Tom himself was this naked, this vulnerable. His whole view of the world was stripped back until there was nothing but the thin strands of his own, crappy life and _Harry_ , Harry who was now a bigger part of him than himself. Maybe this isn't as bad as that, but still, the guy is stripped to his skin and he's just looking at him. 

'What the fuck is wrong with you?' Tom asks, but only because he wants to know how he does it, not because he's angry. 

'I don't understand the question,' Cas replies, 'why have you removed my clothing? Is it something to do with the weapon?'

'What weapon?' Tom asks. He moves to stand behind the man who calls himself Castiel, wondering if that will unnerve him. 

'Heaven's weapon. I can sense it...you...you feel like the weapon,' Cas says, and Tom laughs. He laughs until he has to stop to catch his breath. 

Tom leans in close, 'you're crazy,' he breathes close to Cas' ear. 'I should know. I knew I was all kinds of fucked up, Cas....but y'know, never like _that_. I felt sorry for those people, the ones who died. I felt sick when I thought hearts being gouged out, flesh carved, blood daubed on walls. And you know what? All this time, I've been fuckin' scared, Cas.' 

Cas' mouth pulls down into a deeper frown and he reminds Tom of a shrink. Concern, professional interest, but doesn't get it, not really. All Cas can think is that Tom called him _Cas_ and his name frames Tom's mouth the same way it does Dean's. 'I've been taking pills to numb it all out, and all this time the blood's been on my hands. It's Harry's legacy, but it's my fuckin' hands Cas.' 

Tom moves back around to look Cas in the face again, 'do you know how I feel now? Like I'm God.' Tom slides his hand along Cas' thigh, 'and if you wanna believe I'm some weapon from heaven, well then good for you. I think we agree.' The smile Tom offers is all wrong, and Cas has never seen that twist on Dean's face. 

'You can't hurt me, Tom,' Cas says flatly, 'I'm an angel – I can't die. Untie me.' 

'Angel huh?' Tom laughs again, but this time it's high and almost hysterical. 'And you really believe this do you? Well, we can solve your crazy right now, Castiel. You see this here?' he points to the make-shift bandage on his side, 'shot at by a woman who I....let's just say I had a different ending in mind for me and her...because as it turns out, I murdered some of her friends and I probably would have killed her too. Where's God in that, where's Angels? Didn't swoop down and stop me cutting through ribcages, did'ya?'

 

Cas shook his head a little, 'it doesn't work that way.' 

'That's what they always say. Let the kids in Africa die cos it don't work that way, let the poor die in the cold, cos God sure can't hop off his cloud to save just anyone can he now? And you think I'm a weapon for heaven? I've got news for you buddy, Harry didn't take out the bad guys, and I don't either.' His hand had tightened around Cas' thigh. 

'Earth is a difficult place, and humans are complicated,' Cas said. Nothing seemed to shift him at all, but Tom was getting tired of arguing religion. That wasn't why Cas was tied into the chair, those reasons were so much simpler. 

He shifts his hand along the 'angel's' leg and lets his hand slip down between his thighs. The legs part as though Castiel is simply being helpful. Tom looks up at him, at the barely changing expression. He looks as though he could have been made by someone in heaven; someone who knows what beauty is, but doesn't understand the profound range of human emotion required. All of his depth is in his eyes, a study in blue. 

Behind them music plays and Tom is all but frozen in place. Cas watches him, detached and considering things until Tom's hand slips between his legs. The desire for the weapon flares in his chest, and beyond that lust stirs. The feeling isn't unfamiliar, but it's not welcomed. Tom's hand is moving from his leg to his balls and Cas bites the inside of his cheek. 

Lust is something he's known about for a while, and learned very quickly after taking this vessel. Cas doesn't sleep, but he has a lot of time to think, and Dean fills many of his thoughts. Often his thoughts wander, and Cas thinks about Dean touching him this way, the way humans touch one another. But this _isn't_ Dean, however much he wants him to be.

'Stop,' Cas says, because this isn't why he's here. He doesn't know Tom, he doesn't want to know him this way. He's a weapon, a means to an end. Cas ignores that he used to think of Dean that way too. 

Cas hardens under his fingertips and Tom can't believe his 'stop'. This moment is for him, and if the make-believe angel wants to come along for the ride then Tom will let him, but he doesn't get to decide how this ends. He takes Castiel's length in his hand, because he wants to control it all. He'll force pleasure, and then pain. He wishes he had time to do more; maybe to take his life slowly, to let it fade away and rescue it from the brink again only to finally finish him. But he's letting his thoughts rush ahead. He strokes back and forth along Cas' cock, watching it fill and respond to his touch. 

Cas is sure he was never supposed to feel how he does about Dean, but then again he isn't sure. He's always known that he can't step outside of God's plan, but that only leaves the possibility that God knows how Cas feels about His creation, Dean Winchester. That doesn't mean he approves though, but it's so hard to fight, and Cas has done a poor job of that so far. He shows up in Dean's motel rooms early; to watch him sleep, to watch him as he leaves the shower. He's given into his lust over and over just thinking about Dean. 

'I don't understand,' he says to Tom, 'why would Heaven make you this way?' But he already knows that Heaven doesn't always use the most well-rounded healthy humans. Even Dean is broken is so many ways, but if he becomes Michael's host it won't matter, that'll all be gone. He doesn't know what to do with Tom, or why he's been hunting a weapon that can control even him. 

'If you're really an angel,' Tom says, his voice a little breathless. His right hand strokes languidly the length of Cas' cock, his left exploring his hip and stomach. 'Prove it, show me your wings.' 

'No,' Cas snaps, turning his face away from Tom. He wants to do everything he can to fulfill his duty, but this feels all wrong, and Tom feels more like he's crawled from the pit than been created by celestial hands. 

'What's wrong, are they missing, like your halo?' Tom leans down and presses a kiss against Cas' thigh. Cas' stomach feels warm and his legs are tensing; his vessel loves Tom's touch, and it's all he can do to prevent his hips jerking up towards him. 

'Please,' Cas breathes. 'I can't...this isn't...' 

Tom builds up into a rhythm, licking his lips as he slides his hand up and down Castiel. Precome leaks from the tip of cock and makes a pleasant slick between his palm and the warm, hard flesh of the tied-up angel. 'This isn't a choice,' Tom's left hand moves down to lightly cup at Cas' balls, 'you don't get a choice. I'm going to do this until you can't take it any more.' 

Cas tries to think about other things; things that ought to quiet the lust crying out in his body, but he can already feel that burn in the pit of his stomach. He won't turn his head back to Tom because if he even thinks of him as Dean in that moment it'll be a betrayal to him. Dean is so much more than this man. 

Tom is moving his hand in a way that it twists just as he hits the leaking end of Cas' cock. Beneath the mining suit he's so hard himself that there's a small damp patch forming on the front of his suit. He thinks of putting his cock in Cas' mouth and making him suck, but now Cas is coming hard and Tom's distracted by the way Cas is making little thrusts with his hips and how his mouth fallen open in silent pleasure. And then Cas _does_ cry out, because wings that are almost too big for the mine are filling the air. They're black and thick and Tom's hands are sticky with come as he flails them out behind him to catch his fall. 

Cas dips his head because he never wanted Tom to see them. He's not ashamed of them, and he's not proud of them, but here on earth they set him apart and he feels more vulnerable with them spread behind him than he does naked. 

Tom is scrabbling to get his balance on the ground when it begins to shake. This catches Cas' attention like nothing else and he looks up. Someone is coming. He looks at Tom and can't decide if he should tell the man to run, to run as fast as he can, or to let him die because there's a voice ringing in his ears now and the someone coming is an Archangel. 

'Sariel,' Cas whispers. Tom is on his hands and knees and Cas thinks he won't be sorry to see the man explode. 

The noise that Tom hears is like someone shouting; he knows there's a word there somewhere, but it's distorted by the volume and the audio. It's painful, like high pitched static. The roof of the mine crumbles but doesn't fall down like it seems it should. 

The figure that stands in front of them is impossible, and Tom can't say anything because the words won't come. 

'Castiel,' the Archangel says, 'thank you for locating my vessel.' Cas tips his head, because it's a weapon he's been looking for and not a vessel. 'I've been missing it for a while,' Sariel says, his celestial form exuding warmth. His wings are bigger even than Castiel's. He frees Cas from his binds and thumbs as Castiel's dark wings. 

'I'm leaving home, Castiel. I've been preparing this vessel for some time,' Sariel explains. He looks to Tom still on the floor and smiles. 

'I don't understand,' Cas says, voice filled with doubt 'I thought I was tracking a weapon.' 

'I'm sure he feels that way, after all of the time I've invested,' Sariel moves closer to Tom. Cas is surprised he hasn't exploded, but there are a few who can stand in the presence of Angels in their true form. What surprises him is that Tom is one of them. 

'Why does your vessel look like...' Cas began, Sariel turned to him and finished the question for him, 'like Michael's vessel?'. For a moment the Archangel seemed melancholy and Cas wished he hadn't asked. 'I'm leaving, Cas. I wanted something to remember him by. I've been working on this vessel for an age, making it ready. It's why he has a trace of celestial power.' 

It was something for any angel to leave, but an Archangel? Heaven would look for him. He couldn't just go. 'But why-' Cas started again. 

Sariel lifted a hand, 'it's time to decide where you stand Cas. For yourself. I can't stand with Michael, not anymore. I won't see the world ruined in his fight with Lucifer.' 

Cas' clothes were destroyed but it was only a moment's work to repair them and dress himself. 'You need to leave now,' Sariel told him 'humans will come soon, and I wish to take my vessel.' 

Cas nodded because there was nothing else he could do. He took a last look at the human, Tom Hanniger and vanished.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the kink meme


End file.
